


Ten shots and one single tear

by chaoticdean



Series: SPN season 15 drabbles and codas [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Dean Winchester needs a fucking break, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Heavy Angst, I'm really sorry, M/M, SPN Drabble, spn 15x18, spn s15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26301085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticdean/pseuds/chaoticdean
Summary: angst ahead, proceed with caution / something I drabbled after watching the extended trailer for s15 and breaking down for the hundredth time
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: SPN season 15 drabbles and codas [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609879
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	Ten shots and one single tear

One shot, and tonight he’s finally going to give in.

Two shots, and it’s alright, it’s okay, maybe the pain will finally go away if he keeps up the pace, fingers curling around the neck of the bottle of whiskey as he pours himself another.

Three shots, and there’s a tear rolling down his cheek. Why the fuck is there a tear running down his cheek?!

Four shots, and the pleasant buzzing finally comes in, numbing its way down his entire body, tugging at his heart and stopping his hands from trembling so much. Doesn’t reach his heart just yet, though.

Five shots, and Dean thinks maybe it’s not okay after all, maybe he’s never been built for this, maybe he’s been wrong all along and he can’t fucking take it anymore.

Six shots, and he figures the pain won’t numb tonight, maybe not ever again. It’s too much, and no amount of alcohol seems to do the tricks to finally stop him from fucking _feeling._

Seven shots, and it’s almost soothing, cathartic even, the way the alcohol burns its way down his throat to reach the pool in his lower abdomen, the one that’s been burning with sorrow and despair for what feels like forever.

Eight shots, and why does he bother anyway? It’s not like there’s anything left for him here now. Sure, there’s Sam, and Jack, but they don’t need him anymore, not really. Sam has Eileen, and Jack has Sam. What’s left for him here except mountains of regrets higher than the goddamn Himalaya and pain wider than the fucking Grand Canyon?

Nine shots, and there’s still a tear marked deep inside his soul that no amount of self-loathing and alcohol seem to ever stitch. It’s etched to the edges of his heart, going deeper and deeper as he drowns, unable to stay above ground.

Ten shots, and he finally gives in, sinking to his knees, the half-empty bottle of jack laying on the ground beside him.

One too many tears, and he’s praying, and _praying_ , and **_praying_** , as if he could hear anything from where he’s gone.

_Cas, please, for the love of fucking_ **_everything_ ** _, please come back to me._

Does it ever cease to hurt when you lose the one your soul belongs to?

Does it ever get better?

One single tear, dropping on the hardwood floor, and Dean knows it doesn’t.

So why bother trying, anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> _**rebloggable on[Tumblr](https://chaoticdean.tumblr.com/post/628369791802081280/angst-ahead-proceed-with-caution-something-i)** _


End file.
